


2020 MCU Ficlets

by ModernDayBard



Series: 2020 Ficlet Challenge [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Collection of one shots, Curiosity killed the cat, Dungeons & Dragons, I will update tags as I write, but satisfaction brought it back, cap has a dog, careful what you wish for, fight location drawbacks, little things are important too, mcu meets spiderverse, miles morales in mcu, not for long really, oc insert kinda, peter has friends that look out for him, tony tries to be a good mentor, will be all over the timeline/universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernDayBard/pseuds/ModernDayBard
Summary: Challenge to myself: write at least (1) ficlet every week for the entire year. A handful of these will be in the MCU, because why not. Find them here! (Stories will vary in placement on the timeline, I will mention if it's cannon divergent/AU in chapter notes at the beginning)Chapter 1: Tony (and Peter) between Homecoming and Infinity WarChapter 2: (Some of) the Avengers Post-Ultron/Pre-Civil WarChapter 3: Post-Endgame, Peter Parker meets Miles MoralesChapter 4: Right as Infinity War Begins, on the Asgardian ShipChapter 5: Some time after Winter Soldier; AU in which Cap has a dog.Chapter 6: Post-Dr. Strange, Pre-Infinity WarChapter 7: indeterminate AU involving D&D
Series: 2020 Ficlet Challenge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598794
Kudos: 24





	1. Got Your Back

**Author's Note:**

> A handful of the ficlets I write this year (in my attempt to do one a week) will be for/in fandoms OTHER than Critical Role, so here the MCU ones may be found.

Did the kid have any idea how hard it was to resist the urge to jump in and help when he—oh, you know—got into a big fight with a couple of new super-powered thugs in the middle of the city streets in broad daylight?

Probably not.

Sadly, if the Vulture incident served to prove anything, it was that Peter was now likely convinced (if he hadn’t been before) that his battles and concerns were ‘too small’ for Tony and the others—his comment about ‘looking out for the little guy’ instead of joining the Avengers, while nobly intended, still implied that he assumed his problems/battles didn’t matter to them.

(That _he_ didn’t—if you read it that way, and some days, Tony was afraid that was what Peter had meant/taken away from that whole circumstance.)

But usually, the kid had most situations handled, sometimes even before Tony got any kind of indication they were happening. And Peter was skilled and powerful enough to take care of himself in even his tougher battles—though those were harder to watch without feeling to overwhelming urge to help. But he had to trust the kid just as much as Spiderman _needed_ to be able to operate without him sending backup every time.

Knowing all that never made it any easier, even when he _knew_ , should things turn, that he could have backup for the kid in moments.

* * *

The picture the feed was painting was not a pretty one, but at least it also was not a desperate one—yet. Spiderman—Peter— _had_ taken a few hard hits from the new duo of weirdos he was fighting, but had bounced back from each one like his suit was made of rubber, and was definitely giving as good as he got. He _had_ this: he didn’t _need_ Tony to swoop in, especially if that sent the message that Tony didn’t think he could take care of himself.

Damn—this whole ‘mentor figure’ thing was a lot more complex than he thought when he first contacted Peter.

It was a balancing act he was still figuring out—looking for the point he could _know_ that things had gone too far, but noticing it in time to get there…well, in time. He saw it this time: the kid was slower to get up—not enough for his opponents to notice (hopefully), but those who knew him could read the pain, the exhaustion, in a handful of small tells. Peter had inhuman endurance, sure, but even he had his limits, and if he was starting to show the toll the fight was taking—no longer hiding it as well—then they were getting close.

He needed back up of some kind.

The thought had _just_ crossed Tony’s mind—the inventor hadn’t even settled on what kind of backup to send Peter’s way—when two new darting figures on the feed caught his eye. The two civilians (teenagers) leapt into the fray—well, the girl charged right in, throwing debris, shouting, then ducking behind cover and moving to a different angle, keeping as safe as she could while still providing enough distraction to keep at least _part_ of the enemies’ focus off of Peter as he continued fighting; while the boy chose a much more indirect method of help: clearing the last of the struggling, screaming civilians from the area, then pointing incoming responders to the best spots to maintain order and contain the situation without getting in Spiderman’s way, as well as keeping the more curious/foolhardy/idiotic onlookers from getting stupidly close to the unfolding fight and getting underfoot or in the way.

FRIDAY quickly identified the two as classmates of Peter’s—Michelle Jones and Ned Leeds—and while Tony didn’t know if they were aware that their friend Peter Parker was Spiderman, or if they were simply stepping up to aid their neighborhood’s local hero, it was clear that their efforts had provided the help (or at least, breathing room) that he needed, and the fight ended quickly after that.

It was a strange feeling, not being needed—vague disappointment, but mostly pride and …relief, maybe, that the kid was okay without him? (Geez, this parental thing was complicated. Wait—parental? Shit. What. No—what?)—but Tony couldn’t deny the bittersweet pang of realizing that Peter was surrounded by friends who would have his back, while missing the camaraderie he’d almost had with a now far-flung group of five other people…

_Here’s hoping your story ends better, kid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short, I know; and honestly, its main reason for existing is that my father is just beginning his journey into the MCU and we watched the first Iron Man movie together a few weeks ago, so I wanted to do something with the character, and happen to love the dynamic they were starting to give him with Spiderman, so I decided to explore there for a bit.


	2. Beware the Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure where this idea came from, TBH, but once I got started it kind of wrote itself, for better or for worse. Timeline wise, this is some indeterminate time between Ultron and Civil War.

When he’d been an active Avenger—hell, when he’d worked for _SHIELD_ —Barton would often half-seriously grumble about the tendency of the target-/villain-/monster-/miscellaneous threat-of-the- week to strike major population centers, “Just once,” he’d (mostly) joke), “couldn’t something go wrong in the middle of nowhere? No worries about collateral damage or civilian casualties?”

Mostly, his teammates ignored him. The universe, unfortunately, did not.

* * *

“Clint, look out!”

At Wanda’s shout, he dove for what little cover was available behind an errant boulder as a spray of dust and dead vegetation marked an impact where he’d just been. _Please don’t move. Please don’t wake up._

It’d been bad enough when the hastily-scrambled team had shown up in this open, flat, unoccupied area who-knows-where and found exactly how little cover and height options were available to them to work with, but things only got worse when most of the scattered rock piles turned out to be dormant constructs that their target could awaken and control with a thought.

Ah, yes—their target. First on the New SHIELD’s radar when his ability to control loose stone and dust began to manifest, then later for his tendency to explore said powers by seeing how much damage he could deal to random passers-by.

First attempts at contact and containment had spooked him, and he’d all but disappeared to this god-forsaken place. Fewer civilians for him to target and torment, and no one to get caught in the crossfire, but the isolation had left him undetected as he took the time to hone his craft and push his limits—hence the near half-hundred stone and/or dust constructs scattering the Avengers’ response team, keeping them well away from the man at the heart of the storm.

Literal storm, by the way—if the _things_ weren’t bad enough, the one controlling them was surrounded by a swirling dust storm powerful enough to sand-blast the flesh off of anyone who got too close (Falcon had had a very near miss, but managed to pull up just in time).

Clint spat the grit and sand out of his mouth as he took stock of his remaining concussive arrows—the only ones seeming to have any impact on the inorganic monstrosities. Barely ten left. Even if he managed to make every shot count, he’d barely make a dent in the horde. They had to take out the geomancer himself before they were overwhelmed—this guy was spreading them too thin.

_Wait._

The same thought had apparently occurred to Cap at that moment as well, and the COMS crackled to life. “This guy’s got to be near the limits of what he can focus on at one time—keep pushing him. Wanda, Barton and I will draw attention down here, make sure he has to keep these stone things moving. Falcon, Vision—get as high as you can, try to go over the storm. Force him to make it as big as he can. And be ready.”

Well, that went without saying, and, though they keenly felt the absence of certain team members in this fight (Thor was still off-world, and Stark had needed Nat and Rhodey for some sort of press-tour thing, which was why _he’d_ been brought in as temporary baby-sitter/coach just in time for this whole mess to boil over), the strategy wasn’t too difficult to implement, and if there was one thing Wanda could _definitely_ manage consistently with her powers, it was drawing attention.

As he ran, ducked, rolled and fired around the too-open battlefield (seriously, this place gave him _nothing_ to work with), Hawkeye watched the unnatural storm spiral higher and higher in response to the airborne Avengers. Abruptly it faltered, Falcon swooped, and everything stopped moving a few heart beats later.

* * *

Thereafter, Barton no longer espoused the idea of a fight in the middle of nowhere—

“But what about, like, an uninhabited ruin or something? You know: no people around to get hurt (or complain about what we break), but there’d still be plenty of cover, angles, and heights to work with? Still would like some sort of advance warning, I guess…”

Again, his quips seemed to pass unnoticed…

…For a time, that is.


	3. Little Less Lonely

“What are you doing here?”

It was a question Peter had been asking himself a lot in the last few weeks—once the rush of battle, flood of initial grief, and whirlwind of a new reality (five years later?) left him time for questions, that is. Sometimes, it was a despairing, almost existential question—why was _he_ back in a world he missed so much of, why was _he_ one of the survivors of that final battle, instead of one of the fallen? Other times, it was a reminder to adjust to the changed world—don’t go to the old apartment, you and May live over _there_ now—sometimes, sort of like now, it was another way of asking why he still wandered the roofs and balconies if he had barely touched his suit since that fight—

—It just wasn’t usually being asked by a total stranger on a (previously) otherwise-empty rooftop.

“What are you doing here?” the figure asked again—a kid trying to sound grown-up a part of Peter’s mind noticed while the rest stared, stunned.

The newcomer took another step out of the shadows they’d blended into somewhat easily, since most of their suit was black, save for several bright patches of red—on the shoulders, palms, feet, around the silver eye covers…and a familiar, if somewhat-altered insignia on the chest.

“Did you make that suit?” Peter asked, still staring at the spider symbol, half-expecting it to jump off and bite him again.

The figure started, glanced down, then rubbed the back of their neck sheepishly. “Uh…yeah,” they admitted, dropping the feigned quality to their voice. “I-uh-didn’t want to copy his, you know—I’m not him, not pretending to—but, uh, this city needed someone. And Spiderman was our guy, so…”

Needed? Still needed? It was almost hard to believe, but the argument was standing right there—wait: how old was this kid? Who was looking out for them? Protecting them? Teaching them? Helping them?

“Do...do you even have powers? I mean, you got up here somehow…or did you build stuff to help with that?”

Peter saw the figure hesitate, then visibly try to rally and regain control of the situation they’d only just realized that they’d lost. (Was that what it looked/felt like from this side? Huh.) “That’s not your business, kid. But, um—” Once again, the ‘I’m totally an adult, I promise’ voice slipped. “How did _you_ get up here? The roof access door is key-card locked.”

As much as he had been avoiding being Spiderman lately (something he was only just now admitting to himself), old habits and instincts still blocked the initial impulse to spill his secret to a total stranger when he had essentially no equipment—no matter how young they seemed.

“Turns out my old trick still works. I almost thought it wouldn’t, since—” he waved vaguely at the cityscape around them, not sure of how to finish, or why it felt like he’d actually told the truth.

The kid tilted their head, still sizing him out. _Not computerized lenses, looks like—he leans more powers than tech? Was there another spider after all? Or something else?_ “Are you one of those people that dusted?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered, trying to ignore how dry his throat felt all of a sudden. “It’s a lot, you know?” he managed at last.

The kid shrugged, looking away. “Guess it would be. But things adjusted kinda quickly before—and now, too. So…it gets better?” Abruptly, they sat, shaking their head. “No, that’s stupid. No one got used to it. We just kept moving on anyway.”

Peter sat beside them, feeling oddly like he ought to offer some sort of comfort to slumped figure, but unsure how close the kid would want him to get. “Everyone did what they had to. Like you.” He pointed to the spider symbol on the suit. “That wasn’t easy. But you looked out for people who needed it, because someone had to.”

Silence for a while, then:

“My uncle met him, you know.”

Peter frowned, trying to track the topic-jump. “Spiderman?”

A nod. “Uncle Aaron said he’d gotten mixed up with some people, and Spiderman was busting their operation. They thought Uncle Aaron had ratted on them, and Spiderman saved him—told them to shoot him, not Uncle Aaron. He always said that stuck with him; I figured if that’s the kind of thing that made him what we needed, so…”

“So that’s what you’re trying to be.”

The kid curled almost completely in on themself. “Not that well. I still can’t get all the powers to work right more than half the time and I don’t know what I’m doing and I can’t even tell anybody and—and—”

“—And you’re scared,” Peter finished the tirade with a small, crooked smile that slipped into something more genuine. “And that’s _okay_. And it doesn’t really go away, to be perfectly honest. You just get used to working with or around it. And yeah, the powers are weird, I know. But believe me, eventually they become almost…instinctual? Not sure if that’s the best way to put it, but it just takes time and practice. And the truth is, I don’t think any of us ever actually know what we’re doing, no matter how long we’ve been doing this; we just do the right thing as best as we can, and if we’re lucky, we know there are people who have our backs. And there _are_ , I promise.”

“No. way.” The kid was staring at him now, and he was beginning to realize just how much expression could actually be inferred through the mask—he was going to have to be aware of that when he went out again. “No. way. You’re not—it’s not—how—you’re him—he’s _you?_ ”

Peter spread his arms. “Surprise? I’m sorry? Thank you? I’m not really sure what…”

“I’m sorry!” the kid blurted out, surging to his feet. “I didn’t mean to steal your thing—”

“You didn’t,” Peter pointed out, still seated. “I was gone, and you felt that someone needed to step up, so you _did_ something about it. I’m not mad.” Well, he didn’t know what he _was_ , but maybe, almost…proud? “I-I think it’s good that you did. World’s pretty crazy now, had to have been worse, then. I’ve got no clue what’s coming next. Might be good to have two spider people swinging around.”

“Really? You’re not even gonna tell me to stop or wait ‘till I’m older or—”

Peter held up a hand, then gestured to himself. “Do you honestly think I’m that much older than you?”

“Not anymore,” came the honest reply. “Since—you know—the Blip.”

“Right. That.” No escaping it, only getting used to—and trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he’d be an _adult_ by now, if he’d had a life in the last five years. “So, uh, I don’t have my suit with me tonight, but how about we meet up tomorrow? Go around the city, I’ll see how I can help you with the powers, you can show me how things have changed around here at the same time.”

He could practically _feel_ the kid’s smile, even through the all-obscuring mask (that really didn’t obscure all that much, he was realizing. “Here? Same time?”

“Yep. I’m Peter, by the way.” He stood, putting out his hand.

Spiderman shook it. “Nice to meet you…

…I’m Miles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Essentially, this was a scene that popped into my head either after having seen Endgame or Spiderverse for the first time—can’t remember which now. But I liked the idea that, in the MCU, Miles takes up the mantle during the five years that Peter is gone.


	4. Dying Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one is a little...out there, I guess. I think I got the idea shortly after seeing Endgame, but never really had anything to do with it, since it was never enough for a full fic, so here we are with this little ficlet…

She had never been considered ‘great’ by her people; she was not from any of the prominent noble or royal households of Asgard, and she had not been a warrior of any particular renown, rarely if ever adventuring beyond her home realm.

She _was_ technically possessed of some small power; if one considered the ability to communicate with and exert some influence over insects and other such things that creep, crawl, or fly to be a power—but few did.

Still, she had been content, not really desiring to be seen as great or powerful so long as she was able to live and seek her own happiness it the places that she found it. And, for a time, she was: the power of Odin and his household, and well as Heimdall’s watchful eyes protecting all of Asgard.

But then all began to crumble, the house of Odin collapsing upon itself and tearing itself apart—leaving a dark echo from the past in position to seize power. She escaped with the remnant of their people, and for a brief part of their journey through the stars, she dared to dream of a new start, a new chance—

—A dream the Mad Titan reveled in crushing and killing.

She was in the half the Black Order chose for death, sprawled on the floor of the ruined ship, broken, burned, and bleeding—each breath an agonizing fight she could not win for long. But she could not simply die; could not let Thanos’ bloody rampage go unchecked, unavenged. There was nothing left within her—

—Nothing but a curse, uttered with a dying breath:

“May bug and bee—spider, wasp, and insect—mark you as their enemy and plague you forever…”

* * *

Thanos never bothered to learn all the names of the many who so foolishly opposed him (save but a few he afforded that respect), never realized how much of his downfall could be credited to the seemingly ‘insignificant’ among those who so plagued him:

…Mantis, who was able to nearly hold him helpless—in another timeline, may have been crucial in stopping his Snap before it occurred…

…Young Spiderman, who fought so hard, and who Tony Stark could not bring himself to give up on, to abandon…

…Ant-man, who stumbled accidentally upon the very secret that they needed, and helped turn despair into that desperate, final hope…

…A Returned Wasp (And Spiderman, again) jumping right back into a battle, helping their allies to turn the tide and retrieve the Gauntlet…

…A Gauntlet that would have been forever incomplete, unusable, were it not for the sacrifice of one Black Widow, willing to give all for her family…

…

…Of course he did not know, of course he never learned—why would one such as _he_ take the time and effort to acquaint himself with such…insects?


	5. Quirks

By now, Sam Wilson had gotten used to Steve’s new dog and most of her quirks. And honestly, Brooklyn acted so much like your average black lab that it was easy to forget that she was as ‘enhanced’ as Cap himself. (Mostly. Except for that one time _he’d_ been holding the leash when she spotted a rabbit and gone chasing after it. He’d been lucky not to dislocate anything.)

Still, any dog, super serum or no, will have its own unique personality…and fears…

…

It was early October, but the summer heat was only just breaking in Northern Virginia when the former soldiers and their four-legged companion meandered through a tree-filled park mostly empty of any other people despite the pleasant weather.

Brooklyn padded along beside them, leash-free, relaxed, and well-behaved for the moment. Then, like a switch being thrown, she came alert, her attention and focus entirely honed on the small, grey-furred creature that darted across the path, bushy tail in the air.

Brooklyn darted off at once, wholly intent on her quarry. So engrossed was the dog that she didn’t seem to realize that shed pursued the squirrel partway across a shallow creek until she found herself on a pile of dirt and rock that just crested above the water’s surface roughly halfway across.

All at once, she froze; all thoughts of chasing squirrels forgotten as she realized where she was…and started trembling.

Steve and Sam stopped on the bank Brooklyn’s truly pitiful whimpers reaching them easily, as the creek was not wide at all. Steve whistled for Brooklyn to come, but the black lab stayed rooted to her small perch…shivering…and whimpering…

“Of course,” he mumbled as he tugged his shoes off.

Sam frowned, never having seen his friend’s dog look quite so pathetic. “Is she hurt or something? Like cut her paw or stepped on a sharp rock or something?”

“Doubt it,” Steve answered, stepping into the water and making his way to the little island. “She’s afraid of water.

“She—what? Okay…” Sam watched as Steve crossed the maybe four feet of water to Brooklyn before picking up the still-shivering, still-whimpering dog and carrying her back—

—across the creek that was _maybe_ three inches deep.

Steve set her down, and as soon as her paws were on dry ground, no longer surrounded by the dreaded liquid, Brooklyn perked back up immediately, darting through and playfully snapping at the leaves that were just beginning to fall.

“Of course,” Steve muttered again, but his exasperation was already fading to amusement.

Such is the lot of a dog owner, even for Captain America…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m in the middle of moving, therefore life’s been a little too hectic to come up with a completely original story this week. So, instead, I selected an incident from my father’s childhood and re-skinned it for Captain America. 
> 
> Special note on the character of Brooklyn—Back when I was posting exclusively on fanfic.net, my friend EnduranceInHope and I (and TaleisinTaleWeaver, for a while) wrote a series of MCU fics featuring Cap getting a dog—one who’d been used as a test creature for the Super Soldier Serum (and was still alive for…reasons). If your curious, they’re still up on her FF profile, titled ‘Brooklyn’ and ‘Adventures of Brooklyn’. They’re in the similar fun/cute vein to this one, for the most part.


	6. Show Your Work

“Why me?”

“Being Sorcerer Supreme _does_ come with certain responsibilities.”

“I wasn’t aware that one of them was playing high school principal to every underage initiate that misbehaves.”

“One—she’s not underage, she’ll be nineteen in…well, eight months. Two—this is a special case that we think you’re the best equipped to handle.”

“…Do I want to know why?”

“You’ll see. It’s hard to miss.”

* * *

Nothing jumped out immediately—the girl seemed decidedly average and was dressed simply in clothes that wouldn’t be out of place on the New York City streets just outside. Nothing about her stood out, nothing seemed to match with the sheer destructive _force_ implied by the list of infractions and incidents that’d been passed along to him. Dr. Strange found himself bracing himself internally, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“With a disciplinary list this long, I can’t help wondering why they haven’t kicked you out just yet—”

She shrugged. “Probably because they figured you could something after you saw _my_ list.”

Without waiting for a response, she handed him a binder containing notes that dwarfed the infraction list, all detailing various attempts to—

“I started out with the _Harry Potter_ series. It’s a soft magic system, but the effects of a lot of the spells are described enough that I wanted to see if they could be replicated—except for the really nasty ones, there are lines I _won’t_ cross. I’m working my way through the D&D 5E spell list now with some pretty mixed results, but I don’t know what I should do next: something like Rick Riordan’s _Kane Chronicles_ or if I should look into some more classic fantasy novels. It'd be a good excuse to expand my reading list, which'd be nice…”

Even just scanning the scrawled notes, it was easy to see the points of crossover between her log and the … _incidents_ …that’s resulted in property damage (unintentionally, it seemed now, as lack of foresight tended to imply lack of intention), but there were also her notes on which spells could be performed nearly as described (and how to do so), which ones a magician had to get creative to achieve the same results, and which were impossible. It was thorough, it was messy, unpolished, more than a little disorganized, and now he understood what Wong had meant.

He put on his best stern expression as he looked at the girl over the binder. “So, you’re trying to take a scientific approach to this? Then it’s time you learned how to conduct, notate, and report your experiments like a scientist. No new attempts are to be made until you’ve rewritten this to my satisfaction—but if your notes are incomplete, you may replicate previous attempts _under supervision_. Now, let me get some examples so I can walk you through how this is done…”

It really _would_ be a shame to stifle such a curious mind, after all. Besides, now _he_ was curious as to what she could find out…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to think of a character in the MCU I hadn’t written for yet (that I wanted to/had an idea for), and I decided to try to come up with something for Dr. Strange. My first idea actually worked better as an end to this whole series, so look for that coming next week. I’m not sure where this idea came from, exactly, beyond being something I would probably do if I had access to ‘real’ magic. (I’m not the only one…right?)
> 
> Anyhow, yes, the final chapter/story will be going up next week as I wrap up all the fic series I started as a part of my write-at-least-one-fic-a-week challenge, which I can’t believe I made it this far in! If you are curious about the others, check them out on my profile: I’ve got one for Percy Jackson/Kane chronicles/Magnus Chase, a New Trek/Pokemon Crossover, and one for Critical Role (Actually, 2 if you count my CRInktober 2020 collection, soon to be 3 with my Critmas Fic collection…I have a problem…)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who popped in to check these out, even for a glance or a single chapter, and to everyone who left a kudos or comment. It’s been fun!


	7. Time to Roll

Six _was_ rather a large number for a D&D party, but the DM had assured the group that he could handle it and that there was no reason to turn anyone away who was interested in joining. The first session was, of course, character creation, and the motley nature of the forming group was perhaps not so unexpected when one considered the wide array of personalities at the table:

There was Tony, who would consider no class but Artificer, with its gadgets and gear, magic harnessed by machines.

Peter had also been tempted by the Artificer, honestly, but in the end, he had felt it would be better for the group if he played a Monk instead and carved more of his own unique niche by focusing on physical skills over mechanical or magical devices.

Miles, still very much in the stage of life where much was out of his control even as his responsibilities mounted, had gone with a Wild Magic Sorcerer—great power and potential, but still not fully master of their own abilities.

He’d chosen to start with Rogue, unable to resist the skills and utility inherent, but Clint was already eyeing the Arcane Archer subclass of Fighter—a little multi-classing was always good for spicing things up.

To no one’s surprise, Steve had rolled up a Paladin—what else would he play but a warrior intent on putting themselves into harm’s way to protect civilians and teammates alike?

There’s been teasing discussions about whether Stephen would play a Sorcerer or a Wizard, but to the general surprise, he chosen Cleric—reminding them with a smirk that he’d gotten his M. D. for a reason (and pointing out that relying on two half-casters for all the healing in a party their size would be a recipe for disaster).

At last, the DM held up his hands, waiting until the chatter quieted and attention turned to him. The wizened old man couldn’t help smiling at the assembled group—how he _loved_ doing this.

“Welcome to Excelsior, a world of magic—and marvels…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it in the MCU? Is it in a weird AU where they’re normal people playing heroes in a TTRPG? Who knows—not me!
> 
> So, yeah, this was the silly idea I mentioned last time…all sprung from whether Dr. Strange would be classified as a wizard in D&D, since his magic is book-learned, or Sorcerer as his title implies. (Yeah, he’s totally a wizard.) Then, gremlin brain goes, “but maybe he’d play a cleric, since he’s a doctor,” and then this whole rabbit trial more-or-less wrote itself. Hope you found it fun, at least!   
> (And yes, I only just realized that I focused exclusively on classes to the exclusion of races. Whoops.)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who popped in to check these out, even for a glance or a single chapter, and to everyone who left a kudos or comment. It’s been fun!


End file.
